


What Masks Reveal

by PalavaRakkaus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But I'm kind of feeling good right now so have a fic I guess, Costume Parties & Masquerades, I have never touched the source material, M/M, Pining, a bit of smut, of some sort I don't even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalavaRakkaus/pseuds/PalavaRakkaus
Summary: When Fenris asks Anders for a dance at a masquerade ball, Anders wonders if he's dreaming. Off balance as it throws him, he does not want to wake up, though he knows all dreams must end.Or do they?
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	What Masks Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> [Related](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25973314), because it's very important to me that you know what shape I imagine their masks to be.

"May I have this dance?"

Anders knows that low, perfect voice. Despite the room around him being full of music and chattering people, it is instantly recognisable, and it cannot, _can not_ , be talking to him.

His movements slow, Anders turns around, prepared for disappointment.

Fenris is dressed in deep, sumptuous black adorned with silver, stunningly beautiful even surrounded by so many beings wearing silks and velvets and glittering jewellery. His eyes are focused on Anders, large and bright and green behind a delicate black mask covering the upper half of his face. He looks like something from a dream.

When Anders says nothing, just stands there, hesitating, Fenris offers him a hand. "Well?"

Anders takes it, feels it warm and a little rough against his skin. Perhaps Fenris has not recognised him, after all. Perhaps in clothes much finer than he usually wears, with a cat-eared mask hiding half of his face and his jaw shaved, he looks enough like someone else that the elf is fooled. If that is the case, Anders will take this chance.

For a little while, he is allowed to live this dream.

Anders wonders how they must look together, Fenris's silver and black pressed to his red and gold as they twirl around the dancefloor in time with the music. Fenris is far better a dancer than Anders has expected, leading him with ease through the steps, and Anders lets himself to be guided, pliant in the elf's hold.

He keeps his eyes closed, but he can feel Fenris watching him. Fenris's gaze is like a touch on his face, gentle but never wavering. This close, the elf must be able to recognise him, draw his clues from the shape of his nose and the tone of his skin and the fall of his hair, but they keep dancing, and Anders doesn't know what it means.

Perhaps Fenris is dreaming too, for a dance—for a night.

The music ends, and Anders is left standing in the middle of the floor in Fenris's arms. He opens his eyes and risks a glance at Fenris, and finds the elf still watching him.

"Another dance?" Fenris offers.

Anders swallows. _You know it's me_ , he wants to say. _Why are you doing this? You must know it's me_.

He nods. There's no way he can say no.

Fenris pulls him a fraction closer, and they dance.

Later, Fenris leads him from the floor with a hand on his lower back, and they stop away from the worst of the crowd. Fenris takes two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and offers the other one to Anders.

He should thank Fenris, but if he opens his mouth, there will be not much doubt of his identity. Fenris must know already, but surely he cannot because he's still standing there, and none of it makes sense and Anders wants to understand what is happening.

If this is a dream, it comes with its own set of rules, and if he breaks one of them, he will wake up.

"Thank you," he whispers because he cannot spend the entire evening silent.

Fenris sips his champagne and smiles at Anders. Whatever dream logic this night follows, it allows Anders to have this, it seems.

As they stand there, he wants to say something witty, to tease Fenris for choosing him out of all the options he has, or to ask him why, but the words are stuck in his throat. He drinks from his glass and stays quiet, and Fenris is equally silent next to him.

Fenris takes him to the garden.

The moon his bright and almost full above them as they walk along the curving paths in silence, arm in arm. It's a relief to be away of the noise and the crowd for a little while, and the cool night air feels good on Anders' skin, in his lungs.

They pass other couples as they walk. Everyone looks happy, talking, laughing, a few of them with their masks askew and their carefully coifed hair tangled, or their jacket not quite buttoned right. Anders envies them a little, aware that Fenris would never.

Not with him.

They stop at the edge of a small pond at the back of the garden. The moon and the stars above them reflect from its black surface, occasionally disturbed by a faint ripple across it, and gentle breeze makes the reeds bend and rustle.

"You have been very quiet all night," Fenris says. His body radiates warmth to Anders' side.

Anders doesn't know how to answer. He's so out of his element here. He's had so much more experience being the seducer, putting a careful move after another on the person he wants until he has his victory or is turned down. Here, he is letting himself be guided through the steps, and he doesn't know where it will take him.

To the end of the dream, most likely. To the moment he wakes up into reality where Fenris hates him again.

"I … don't really know what to say," he admits.

He wants to joke around and flirt like he would do with anyone else, but he doesn't have the courage. It may make him a coward; it may be the right thing to do.

"And here I thought you always had some witty words just waiting to be used," Fenris answers, a faint smile on his lips. "I find myself nearly missing your babbling."

Anders manages to smile back. This is as much of an acknowledgement of Fenris knowing who he's with as Anders is going to get. It makes him feel a little hopeful, but hope is a liar and will only ever lead to pain and disappointment. Anders is not a fool enough to trust in hope.

It has let him down before.

The garden is full of roses. They pass a fragrant bush after bush of them, and each time, Anders is tempted to reach out, to steal one perfect bloom and—

He's given flowers to others many times before; he's never been as uncertain of their welcome. With Fenris, he doesn't know where the lines are. There must be one he can't cross without ruining this night, losing this strange new thing Fenris has allowed between them.

Terrified of the consequences, he picks a rose anyway. His hands shake as he offers it to Fenris.

Fenris makes a surprised, breathy noise and stops walking, accepts the rose. His fingertip ghosts over the delicate petals, and then he slips it behind one sharply pointed ear. The colour matches his hair.

"Thank you," Fenris says. "It is beautiful."

 _Not as beautiful as you_ , Anders would say to anyone else. With Fenris looking at him, he can only nod.

He has never yearned like this, he realises as they stand there, looking at each other.

"What do you want?" Anders asks, so quiet the words could be lost in the night.

Fenris hears them anyway. "What does anyone want?"

Anders ponders that for a moment. "What _does_ anyone want?"

"A connection," Fenris answers.

Midnight has passed when they make it back, but the music continues in the ballroom.

"One more dance before the night is over?" Fenris offers.

Anders could never refuse.

There are few couples on the floor anymore as Fenris leads Anders into a slow waltz. The elf keeps him close, bodies pressed together as they slide across the floor. Anders closes his eyes again and allows Fenris to guide him, breathes in his scent and lets the warmth of his body sink into his skin. He wants the music to last forever so that they can stay like this and he does not have to face the reality where this will never happen again.

Eventually, the music ends, the final notes fading away. Anders doesn't open his eyes, just lets Fenris pull him to the side. His dream must be over now.

"Thank you for the night," Fenris says.

Anders forces his eyes open, glances at Fenris. "I—thank _you_ ," he manages to answer.

Fenris looks at him, a fraction of a smile on his lips, strange fondness lingering in his eyes behind the black mask. "Would you let me walk you home?"

Or perhaps, the dream will last a moment longer.

Anders nods.

They walk in silence, arms linked. Anders keeps his steps slow so that they will have a few more moments together, and Fenris matches his pace. The streets are so empty it seems as if they are the only two beings in the world.

The silence grows around them until it's suffocating, until he wants to scream to break it.

Anders wonders if Fenris feels it too. He stays quiet, the scream trapped somewhere in his chest.

At Anders' door, they stop. Anders turns to look at Fenris for the last time. The uncaring moonlight washes away all colour, and Fenris's eyes are as black as the mask on his face, bottomless wells Anders could drown in.

"If you take your mask off now," Fenris says, voice very soft, "I will kiss you."

Anders swallows and closes his eyes, closes out the world and the cold moonlight and even Fenris. He knows he should not, knows he's making a mistake, on the verge of breaking something precious because Fenris cannot mean it, must be playing some strange game with him.

His hands tremble as he raises them and slowly, slowly removes the mask.

He doesn't open his eyes afterwards, just stands there, the mask hanging in his hand, eyes closed. A part of him expects mockery for wanting this, for being a fool enough to ever think Fenris would kiss him.

No mockery comes, no insults or cruel jokes. Anders makes a surprised little noise as Fenris's lips press to his. The kiss is light and gentle, careful, but it's as real as anything has been tonight. Anders can feel Fenris's breath on his cheek, smell the scent of the elf's skin and the rose still tucked behind his ear, sense the now-familiar heat of his body, and he wants to cling to those sensations, keep them forever.

When Fenris pulls back, Anders opens his eyes. Fenris has removed his own mask, and there are lines over his cheekbones where it has pressed into his skin. His mouth is curved into a faint, gentle smile.

They stand there, watching each other in silence for a while. Anders can still feel the touch of Fenris's mouth on his own, and he yearns to have it again. He yearns for much more than kisses, but he isn't sure if he's allowed to ask.

"Would you—" He swallows, clears his throat. His heart it beating so hard he can feel it against his ribs, hear it in his ears. "Would you like to come in?" he manages.

"Yes," Fenris answers, and now Anders _certain_ this is a dream.

The door closes behind them, and Anders reaches out for Fenris, his hands unsteady, unsure of what he wants, now that they are alone and not hiding behind masks anymore.

Fenris knows better and kisses him, still gentle but more purposeful than before, his tongue sliding into Anders' mouth as Anders parts his lips. It feels good and right, and Anders closes his eyes and lets Fenris have him. The elf's hands are in his hair, keeping him close, and he's thankful they won't let him pull away and begin to doubt again.

They make their way from the door to Anders' bedroom, bodies pressed together, as close as they were when they danced, mouths barely leaving each other's. Fenris's hands burrow themselves in Anders' clothing, tugging it to the side until they find bare skin, and Anders makes a noise he's never heard himself make, full of need and desperation.

This is not unfamiliar to him, this touching, this kissing; he's done it with so many others, so many times, but somehow here, with Fenris, it is all new. He wants so much it leaves him brittle, but Fenris's hands are on him, holding him together.

Anders is still not sure this is real, but he will take what he can until finally, Fenris will push him away.

They end up in his bed, Fenris on top of him, so much warm, soft skin touching his own. He knows where this usually leads, two naked people in bed, but he can't believe it will happen between them.

"What are we doing?" Anders asks, and his voice shakes.

"Whatever we wish to," Fenris tells him, and it's not an answer, not really, but Anders accepts it and pulls Fenris closer.

Their bodies fit together like two pieces of a broken whole. Fenris's mouth barely leaves his, and that is exactly what Anders wants. It will keep him from talking more, saying stupid things that would drive Fenris away.

Soon, the kisses are not enough. Perhaps Fenris has been right, and everyone is looking for a connection. Anders wants it burnt into his flesh, seared into his soul, because if this is a dream, he must have it all before this ends.

"Take me," he dares to whisper into Fenris's ear when the elf's mouth leaves his. "I need you to take me."

Anders doesn't know what he has been expecting. What he gets is gentle and caring and painless, like the past night has been. Fenris takes him slowly, spreads him open and fills him to the core, and Anders pants, wide-open eyes staring at the familiar ceiling above him.

Kindness has always been the one thing with the power to break him, and as Fenris moves inside him, so careful, so good, he wonders if the elf knows that. Fenris has treated him as if he were something precious the entire night, and it has reduced him to this, brought him here where he can only cling to the body above him and give himself away like he hasn't done in a while.

The heat between them is almost unbearable, too much and never enough. He wants more, and more, and though he's still too silent, at a loss of words, Fenris seems to know. The elf gives him it all, and each thrust into his desperate body takes him higher until he's sure it has to end, has to be over, and then Fenris fills him again and it keeps going.

He comes when Fenris seals their lips together, tongue sliding into him in time with the movement of the elf's hips. It crashes over him like a tidal wave, drowns him in pleasure, his body tense as he cries out into the kiss.

Fenris follows him down, slick and burning hot inside him, and Anders wants to remember this feeling, wants to lock it somewhere inside him where no one can reach it and take it away from him.

For a little while, with Fenris still in him, the world is clear and complete and flawless, newly made and beautiful.

Fenris pulls out, slow and careful, and it is over. The elf has gotten what he wants, and now he will walk away, and Anders will be alone again, left to search for the man he has been before Fenris turned his world upside down. This is, finally, the moment the dream shatters.

Fenris stays. He presses one final kiss on Anders' lips and lies down on his side next to Anders, so close their bodies are touching, wraps an arm around Anders' waist. It feels unreal, more so than the rest of the night, and Anders takes the elf's hand in his own, laces their fingers together.

Fenris gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

The first thing Anders sees when he wakes up is the rose on his nightstand, the one that matches the colour of Fenris's hair. It twists something in his chest as it rests there, a little wilted like an old, fading memory of a dream.

Fear tightening his throat, he rolls around.

Fenris is asleep next to him, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady. He looks ethereal, as if the light of the rising sun could burn him away at any moment. Half convinced he's lying next to a ghost, Anders reaches out and strokes his fingers down the sleeping elf's cheek. Fenris's skin is warm and smooth under his touch.

This is not a dream. It is all real, and he's awake, and he wants this to last forever.

When Fenris opens his eyes and smiles at Anders, sleepy and slow and warm, Anders dares to hope that it will.


End file.
